Same Shit, Different Day
by Disco-Wing
Summary: Walking slowly, Tiger approached Dick, being careful not to startle his hysterical friend, "Hey man, what's up?" He eased, smiling softly. Dick laughed, tears flowing from his eyes, and pressed the pistol further into his head, "Same shit, different day."
1. The Way It Happened

It took Batman three days to hang Nightwing's suit in a glass case. Like a trophy, it stood next to Jason's, gathering dust. The suit hadn't even been cleaned before it was displayed. Every tear, burn, and gash in full view for anyone to see. The dried blood, just now starting to flake off and flutter to the ground, made the suit look...almost saddening. Eerie. It was in such a bad condition, that any person could approach and know that whoever wore it suffered before death. It was a constant reminder to "the one they couldn't save," because there will always be one of those, won't there?

It took Batman four days to display Nightwing's hologram in the Mountain, once again, standing tall beside Jason's. Everyone was surprised by how quickly it appeared. It was almost like Batman already had one ready to go. It wouldn't be all that surprising if he did. The photo they used was a solomn one, taken not long after Jason's death. Taken during another sad time in Dick's life. In the picture, Nightwing's hands were rested on his hips, and his head was tilted down, almost like he'd been given bad news. His face held a small frown, not one meant for sadness or confusion, but one of deep disappointment. It's an unusual choice to display, but a fitting one nonetheless. In fact, if Nightwing were still here, he'd probably be making that exact face.

It took Batman seven days to bury another soldier. Another funeral. With a coffin, once again, engraved with a familiar symbol. Another funeral with 'Amazing Grace' echoing from the bagpipes and bouncing through the streets. It was nice and everyone attended. The Titans, Superman, The Team, even Constantine. Everyone showed up. Everyone except Batman. Instead, Batman had been off playing cat and mouse with Joker.

It took Bruce seven days to bury Dick. To bury another son. Seven days to lower one more sleek, ebony coffin to the ground. How many was it going to take? How many must be laid to rest for the sake of one mission? How many lies with unspoken consequences were there going to be?

It took Dick eight days to infiltrate Spyral, and Agent 37 nine months to leave.

It took Dick nine months to make the first entry, and one month to make his last.

 **Hey everyone, I'm alive. So I thought up this story while at Basic, so I may go back and edit this prologue a bit later on. Anyway, I wanted to get something out, so enjoy and let me know what you think.**

 **Also, this will be based off a true story my Captain told me about his friend. I'll tell that story later on, so please, continue reading. If not for me, than for the story that needs to be told.**

 **Til next time,**

 **Rachel**


	2. Saying Goodbye

_November 2017 -Nine Months Previous_

Saying goodbye was probably the easiest part of "dying" for Dick, and that's because he never actually had to say it. Yeah, he might've whispered it into the passing wind as it carried the sound across Gotham. He might've looked at an old photo and silently mouthed it. But never did he once actually _say it._

Goodbye was easy. He didn't have to watch his family fall apart when they learned he'd never come back. When they realized he wouldn't be coming home with hugs and smiles anymore. When Alfred remembered how quiet the manor had become, and how it was before Dick had first arrived there. He didn't see Damian cry himself to sleep because not only had he lost his brother, but two Father figures as well. It'd only been a week and Bruce still hadn't left the cave. But Dick didn't have to watch any of that. He was dead.

He didn't have to watch because he _knew._ Before he even accepted the mission, he knew what it would do to them, and yet, here he was, trying to come back home. Nine months of being dead, nine months of non stop fighting, and he thinks he can just waltz back into their lives. Hopefully _-hopefully-_ he doesn't have to say goodbye this time.

* * *

 _August 4th, 2018 -Entry One_

 _I've decided to make these entries as I journey back into the land of the living. So far, Bruce still thinks I'm with Spyral working my mission. More importantly, he still thinks I'm dead. But I can't do it anymore. Tiger and I have taken down Spyral, and he now leads the organization. It's going well so far, and Tony thinks I should go back home, saying, "You still have a place to go back to Grayson, a family. You're not cut out for the spy life. Go home." So I'm taking his advice._

 _I'm coming home._

 _I really don't want everyone react to badly, but I know it's bound to happen. They shouldn't stay mad for long though, they're pretty forgiving. I think I'll visit them one at a time. Bruce first probably. Maybe it'll be like when Jason came back, minus all the death._

 _I know I've changed, probably not for the better, it was inevitable. I just hope everyone is willing to accept who I am now, and not crave the person I was in the past. I just want to come home. I'm sick of the fighting, of constantly looking over my shoulder. I'm tired. Just tired._

 _Tired._

 _That's all I have for this entry I think. Maybe these things will be useful one day. I could show Timmy I suppose, God knows he needs an outlet. It's a good way to sort out your mental state. A place where you can truly be honest with yourself._

 _Anyway, I'm rambling now. I'll make another entry after I talk with Bruce. It's probably not going to end well, but that was predictable. It is Bruce after all. The guy can't express or emote to save his life._

 _-Grayson_

* * *

 **Don't worry, the next chapter is going to be a few thousand words long. I have a lot to tell in so little chapters.**

 **It's a story that needs to be told, and told correctly, and that's what I plan to do.**

 **Til next time,**

 **Rachel**


End file.
